


Storm

by mrspollifax



Series: advent calendar 2020 [9]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Advent Calendar, Ficlet, Found Family, Future Fic, M/M, Post-Canon, also actual families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28014600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrspollifax/pseuds/mrspollifax
Summary: Snow bursts through the door of the flat, storms across the living room, and throws himself onto the couch with such force that I can feel the bounce of it from the opposite end. I glance up from my book and make note of his red face and his disordered hair, which is pointing in several different directions at once in a way it only does when someone’s been tugging their hands through the curls.Since I’ve been sitting here reading for the last hour, I can only assume Simon’s turned his hair into a bird’s nest himself.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: advent calendar 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040538
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Advent Calendar Day 9: Storm. Just pretend it's still December 9. I'm a bit behind!

I’d planned to have a peaceful afternoon catching up on some reading before Simon got home from his shift at his new job. And it had started that way, before Fiona called, and Mordelia texted, and Bunce needed to verbally process her plans for the rest of her life prior to leaving the flat for the evening. 

Simon should be home any minute now. He’ll be tired after handling customers all day, though, so I probably have another hour or so to read while he watches some show or other to decompress.

I continue to labor under this illusion right up until Snow bursts through the door of the flat, storms across the living room, and throws himself onto the couch with such force that I can feel the bounce of it from the opposite end. I glance up from my book and make note of his red face and his disordered hair, which is pointing in several different directions at once in a way it only does when someone’s been tugging their hands through the curls.

Since I’ve been sitting here reading for the last hour, I can only assume Simon’s turned his hair into a bird’s nest himself.

From the far end of the couch, he cocks an eyebrow in an aggressive way that I often regret teaching him. I shrug in response and return to my book. “Lovely day at work, I take it,” I say, keeping his voice level. Casual. Bored. 

Simon snorts. “The shop was fine,” he says.

“Hmm,” I reply, turning to the next page. “Holiday rush?” 

“Not much yet.” 

I nod. “Bunce said to tell you she’ll be at the library this evening, and you’re to do the dishes.”

Simon lets out a sound that falls somewhere between a groan and a shout. 

“It’s just the dishes, Snow.”

“Cut it out, Baz. You don’t have to coddle me.”

Direct questions rarely yield useful information when Snow’s in a mood like this. I know it. Simon knows it. Simon knows I know it. There’s a great deal of knowing it’s true and very little to be done about it. Usually the roundabout path is the better one, but it seems Simon’s not in the mood for it tonight. 

“All right, then.” This was definitely not the evening I expected, but then again, things rarely are when Snow’s involved. I set my book down on the coffee table. “What’s got into you, exactly? If we were back at Watford, you’d have smoke coming out of your ears, and I’d be worried you were about to burn the tower down.”

“Lady Salisbury stopped in at the shop.”

Ah. That would explain the mood - the long-lost and newly-devoted grandmother. (And hadn’t that been a shock to everyone concerned when it had come to light this fall?) “She probably came in person because you never answer your phone. Which, as your boyfriend, I can assure you is quite annoying.”

Simon kicks the table leg. “You’re quite annoying.”

“My life-long goal.” I pause, then try again. “I assume she wasn’t just calling in to say hello.”

Snow drags his fingers through his hair, and yes, that’s definitely why it looks the way it does right now. “She wants me to come visit on Saturday,” he says at last. “Said she’s ‘having a few friends in for dinner.’ And my uncle.”

“And?”

“And what?” He kicks at the table leg again, but it’s softer this time. “I couldn’t very well tell her no to her face, could I?”

To be honest, I’m surprised he didn’t. “Not without becoming the main gossip at the club,” I say, considering. “Magickal society loves a good family rift.”

“The club,” he scoffs. “Last summer they’d all but forgotten I exist. Except your parents, who we both know wish they could. But I’m a Salisbury now, so suddenly everybody cares?”

I don’t say anything to that. He’s not wrong, but we’ve been round and round this track before. It doesn’t go anywhere.

“And how is it a rift when I was never really family in the first place?” he goes on, still properly worked up.

“Don’t coddle you?” I ask. “Are you sure about that?”

He makes a face and then shrugs. “That’s what I said.”

I sigh, then I scoot down the couch to sit closer to him. “Simon, you avoid her, you don’t take her calls, and when Dr. Wellbelove first introduced you, you ran out of the room like you had goblins to slay.”

“Slaying goblins was easier. I don’t even know how to _have_ a family.” 

He’s still grumpy. But when he moves, it’s to close the rest of the gap between us, pressing his shoulder up against mine. 

It’s a miracle we are having this conversation, I remind myself. That he’s not just in his bedroom lying down with the curtains drawn, or sitting here next to me, not touching, not talking, not living _._ The fact that he’s not yet noticed he’s been here with Bunce and myself these last few years, having the best approximation of a functioning family we can give him, is best left for another day.

“You smile at the ones you hate,” I say instead, “and make fun of the ones you like. It’s not that difficult.”

“I don’t think normal people do family like you and your aunt.”

I wave a hand. “Well, you can run around tripping over each other and trying to steal the best books for yourself, if you want to use the Bunce model.”

“Not for books,” he says. “Maybe if it were scones instead.”

“I’ll fight Bunce for the books, then.” I tap my foot against his. “If she were here, she’d say something optimistic. That Lady Salisbury means well, or some rot like that.”

“Except she’d say it while telling me what to wear and which fork to eat with.”

I can’t help myself. “See, you do know what it’s like to have a family.”

He smiles, just a bit. “Penny’s not here. What do you say?”

“Lady Salisbury means well.”

“Baz.”

“It’s a nice house,” I offer. “No wraiths, so it’s better than visiting my parents.”

“Also, she actually wants me there.”

“Also that.” I lay my hand on his leg, palm up, and wait for him to take it. “Go see your grandmother,” I say when he does. “If it’s miserable we’ll go to the pub when you get home. If it’s not, you can take me for baked goods in the morning. You win either way.”

He nods, then leans sideways to look out the window. “Maybe we’ll get snowed in.” He frowns as though he can manifest snowflakes himself. He turns back to me. “Can we get snowed in?”

“The forecast is clear as a bell through next week, sadly.”

He squeezes my hand. “You have a magic wand!”

“Weather magic’s _dangerous,_ Simon,” I say in my best Penelope Bunce voice.

He cracks up laughing, his morose mood gone just like that.

I’ll never completely understand, but I don’t really care. I’m just glad to see his smile.

“I’m hungry,” he says, when he’s calmed down again.

“You’re always hungry.”

“It’s your fault for talking about pastries. Did Penny really say the thing about the dishes?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Snow.”

“Will you help?”

I shove his leg with my foot before sliding back to the other end of the couch and retrieving my book. “Go do your chores, Chosen One. Then we’ll find you dinner.”

“All right.” He gets up and heads for the kitchen. “I like that plan.”

So do I.

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the fic I meant to write, but Baz just would not magic up a storm so they could be stuck inside. Yeah, I was annoyed too!
> 
> I'm on tumblr at [tulipsandtesseracts](http://tulipsandtesseracts.tumblr.com).


End file.
